A Can of Sidhe
by kiniro no hana
Summary: Lytegian is a small isle with big secrets. Alfred and Matt are brothers with skeletons to bury. Spending the night in the town's legendary cemetery brings them face to face with a hidden world, and some very unusual people.


_**Kiniro-no-hana**_

_**Lytegian**_

**Summary: **The town of Fyfe on the Isle of Lytegian is a common British town with an extraordinary past. In the modern day it is small and unremarkable, and home to two boys who are neither small nor unremarkable. In a show of youthful bravado, Alfred agrees to spend the night in the town's infamous graveyard. His poor brother Matthew is dragged along for the ride, and together they crash through every warning sign ever made by the true inhabitants of Lytegian.

_ In the Isles of Britain, there is one in particular which is different from all the rest. This island's name is Lytegian. The name means "Beguilement" and is rightfully earned. The island is large as far as islands go, smaller than the Isle of Britain, but larger than the Isle of Man. In it's virginity, it was covered on all its ground by a sacred forest. No humans had ever set foot on the isle in the early days of their civilization, but with their growing power on the main island, the humans became proud. They believed the world was theirs for the taking, forgetting the old rhymes which tell of a race far more ancient. In their foolhardiness, humans began a colony on Lytegian. The guardians of the forest, however, are not easily brushed aside._

_British Isles, 1378_

"Hark, hark! They be over yonder, by the crags! It be exactly as I told thee, brother!"

"They have so many men! How shall we take care of them all? It looks like they mean to stay...Lo! They have begun to lay foundations!"

"We shall go in and wreak havoc, that is all we need to do! Humans around here are suspicious enough as it is, throw the fire a twig and it will blaze for centuries! OW! Wherefore, Bjørn?"

"Thou art a lout. Murder be not our aim."

"We dun' have ta kill 'em. Jus' scare 'em away."

"What be your whim, Berwald-Papa?"

"Hmm...We havn't need ta kill 'um. Jus' need ta get 'em off the isle."

"You are showing the white of your belly, Berwald! Ever and anon humans go wither they please, setting hell-flames to entire woods! Kill all but a messenger, says I!"

"The ire of Man is not a trifle, brother, though thou art set in thinking so. They wouldst return, in greater force of arms than they be now. Then what shall avail us? Tis better to keep these harmless wanderers than to stir the anthill. In time they shalt bring our own designs to fruition."

"Traitorous rogue! My own sister doth rebel against my counsel! OW! Bjørn! Wherefore?"

"I have said before as I say again, thou art a bilbo and a lout. Listen to the wisdom of our sister."

"Thou canst inform mine actions! Ghaaaak!"

"Silence thyself or the humans shalt hear the din of thine voice from afar."

"A cruel mistress thee be, Bjørn! But it doth not dilute mine adoration of thee!"

"Silence!"

" Bjørn! Thou shalt be the death of him! Mathias? Doth thou hear me? How many fingers canst thou see?"

"Berwald-papa?"

"Un...we shall give 'um a sign. Sumtin' they can'ot explain. Tell 'em we shall leave 'um to themselves if they keep to themselves."

"That is well thought, Berwald! Alas, what shalt we use?"

Mmmm...evry'un' fer themselves. No killin', but go wild. Conv'cation ov'r."

"Kesesese! Life has its merits now, ain't it, Arthur?" A silver haired almost-man laughed. There were two males of such a transitional age seated upon two kegs of beer, drinking from it like it was their own private stock. The other man had ashy blonde hair and striking green eyes, while his partner had red eyes. The two seemed polar opposites, but in their mutual delinquency they found a common ground.

"Indeed." Arthur agreed as he knocked back another mug of beer.

"Mayhap moving to this God-forsaken isle shalt become a treasure in rags! Nary a soul can put blame on another, or throw them in jail, for there is need for every able-bodied man in tending the fields!" The man made his strange snicker again, which the women of the village called "the devil's laugh". Arthur's smile was dry as he refilled their tankards.

"Yea and verily. Cheers to the vacant justice system, Gilbert." Arthur saluted, handing the other his tankard before clinking them together. It was only 2 in the afternoon, an all-together indecent time to be getting drunk, but neither cared much for polite society. As they were slowly descending into delirium, a commotion broke out at the edge of town. The two gangly teens left their tankards with the kegs and went to inspect. Sure enough, at the end of the main road where the paddocks were, which was really little more than a dirt patch, there was a crowd, otherwise known as the entire population of the little village. They were all clustered around something, speaking in loud and accusatory voices. The two delinquents tapped the shoulder of a man on the periphery of the circle and asked him what had happened.

"It be best if ya lads saw it with yer own eyes, for even mine cannot believe it! The Sidhe it be, the Sidhe have been angered!" The man had flaming red hair, obviously an Irishman. Both boys snorted to each other and pushed through to see the object of the commotion. Even they were shocked by the sight. It seemed like every animal they had brought with them had been suddenly made ill. The horses were foaming at the maws, eyes glazed and yellowed in the whites, the sheep were laying down, eyes rolling and nickering senselessly. The goats were pawing at the ground and running a-muck, butting anything they ran into. The three cows they had somehow lost all the fur on their tails, they were sitting together as if about to weather a great storm, mooing loudly and nuzzling the barren ground. On top of all that, the bushels of wheat they had brought with them had strange mushrooms growing on them, ruining the crop.

"Passage! Give me passage! Passage, you mongrels!" A crotchety old woman screamed from the back. Everyone instantly parted to let her by, even Gilbert and Arthur moved in the presence of the town's Seer. She was an old gypsy, wrinkled and hideous, with both eyes clawed out long ago, to aid in her work. She entered the paddock and stood in the middle with her head bowed, mumbling.

"Kese, do these bumpkins really think fairies did all this?" Gilbert whispered conspiratorially to Arthur. Arthur, to his surprise, shushed him and remained riveted on the old hag. Gilbert snorted, a complete disbeliever in all things fay. Arthur was a total believer however, having been able to see them from his birth. Suddenly he noticed that the woman was looking off into the woods, and he followed her gaze.

To his utter amazement, an entire contingent of fairies stood at the eves of the forest. The tallest was utterly terrifying, his sea-colored eyes covered by some strange kind of device that he could see through. Next to him was a shorter, happy-looking man with gossamer-thin looking hair and violet eyes. He was very close to the giant, and Arthur suspected they were mates. Another tall blonde stood on the other side of the giant, whom he assumed to be their leader. He had a shit-eating grin and was staring directly at Arthur, his arm looped around another thin blonde with unreadable storm-cloud eyes, who was trying to shove the spiky-haired elf off of him. On the end stood the only woman, holding a silver-haired boy-child, both far fairer than any human. All of them were beautiful beyond compare, and taller than most fully-grown men, even the woman. Their clothes were finely woven in colors Arthur had heard only existed in far-off lands. The huge leader pushed his littler mate forward. Arthur assumed he was the diplomat among them, and the slight thing walked forward until he was standing in front of the wise woman.

"U-Um...We come without intent to harm you! But this is our island, and you humans are intruding where it is not safe for you. We have been angered with your impudence and-"

"The forest gods have been stirred!" The not-so-wise woman cut the fairy off, turning to the collection of people, raising her arms high in the air. "We hath incurred their unholy wrath! They must be appeased!"

"Bloody hell, that woman's off her rocker!" Arthur muttered under his breath. Gilbert laughed in agreement. Unfortunately the men around them heard, and pushed them forward.

"Let us appease them then! We shall give them a sacrifice of two strong, young lads! Nothing might be a fairer offering!" Shouted the head of the village, who also happened to be Arthur's father. Arthur's head whipped up and looked at his father, who didn't spare him a single glance. "We have been plagued by these worthless boys, let us give them up to the fays to feast upon! Say you yea or nay, O people?"

"YEA!" The village shouted, sick of putting up with the two young drains on their kegs.

"HALT, WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD?" Gilbert shouted, bolting to his feet, red-eyes blazing. He wasn't going to be sacrificed to some non-existent flower-wearing nymphs! Arthur stood as well, a look of hurt and betrayal in his green eyes. His father merely smiled. He saw his mother over with the women. He tried to make eye-contact with her, but she only looked away, down at her feet in shame. He saw his brothers in the crowd, their missing-toothed smiles wide and eyes dancing with cruel joy.

"Father! I have never been the good son thou may hast desired, but my brothers be of equal stock! Wherefore am I the sacrifice? Especially when the fays demanded no such thing!" Arthur yelled, before realizing his slip. His mother had told him he was never to speak of his gift to his father. Now the smile on his father's face fell and turned to rage. He marched forward and kicked his son in the jaw.

"MONGREL! HOW DARE YOU PUT SUCH SHAME ON YOUR FAMILY! WE SHALL HAVE NONE OF YOUR STRANGENESS!" he roared, pulling his son up to punch his face, before letting him fall and stomping hard on his groin. Arthur screamed in pain. Gilbert tried to distract the man, but the villagers held him back. Arthur's mother wanted to go to him, to hold her son and protect him from the pain he was in, but she couldn't. Doing so would bring suspicion of witchcraft upon her, and she was afraid to die.

"Forgive me, Artie..." she whispered into her youngest son's hair, holding the sleeping babe close to her chest, turning away from the scene. She knew he was watching her as her husband tortured him. She could feel the resent, the budding hate, the sense of treachery, and the pure, undiluted hurt that she had abandoned him. Him, her so-called favorite son. He knew how much that was worth, now.

"Release me! You cuckholds! I bet all your wives would rather sleep with the fays!" Gilbert howled as he broke free and pushed Arthur's father off of him. They may not have been friends, but even though Gilbert was a lonely orphan with a sour attitude, he was loyal to friends, even if he hated their guts. He dragged Arthur over the fence of the paddock, running to the edge of the trees and stopping in the soft grass. Unbeknownst to him, the fairies had come and surrounded them, and the diplomat was holding a charm to Arthur's injuries, healing them with his magic.

"Zh-zhank zee..." Arthur mumbled, his face too swollen for proper speech. Gilbert nodded, thinking it was meant for him, which it halfway was, but he was also speaking to the elf-man who was mending his broken ribs.

"Humans are so barbarous..." The cloud-eyes man whispered, taking the child from the woman, who nodded in agreement. Their pointed ears had charms pierced through them, he noticed as he stared up into the rainy sky.

"Get them!"

"Capture the sacrifices!"

"Off with their heads!"

Shouts like these echoed from the crowd off villagers.

"Demon-eyed!"

"Children of the devil!"

"Possessed by demons they be!"

"Tell me, Arthur! How many fairies doth you see now? Hahaha, dumb and deaf, worthless little sack of meat!" Ah, that was Connor...his eldest brother. Rot in hell, bastard.

"Well this is a true mess." The woman commented idly. "It seems we have nary an option but to put on a performance."

"Those savages! Are these not their own children that they persecute?" Asked the spiky-haired elf. Arthur tried to sit up, and the diplomat supported his shoulders, looking at him with kind violet eyes. They held Arthur mesmerized, those unusual eyes...

"We must make haste! Bjørn, Eleonora! Canst thou use thine powers to take us back to the mountain?" The violet-eyed elf asked of the cloud-eyed one and the woman. They looked at each other for a second, before nodding.

"Come, sister. The circle must be made." Bjørn said to Eleonora. She nodded and took out a small pouch, sprinkling the dust in a ring around the party. Where it shimmering fell, large mushrooms sprang up, encircling them all as the crowds finally circumvented the paddock. Arthur's father at the head, the crowd ran forward at full pace, but they all stopped, hitting and jostling and running into each other once they saw the mushroom ring. The crazy old coot came up from behind and lifted her clawed hands into the air, swaying on the spot and moaning.

"The fay-kings have hearkened to our plea! They are taking the children away~!" Her voice died as the elf-woman pulled a hand across her own mouth, as it she were sowing it shut with an invisible thread. The Seer pulled on her thin lips, trying to open them, making screeching noises. Arthur's father was dumbstruck. This had started as a way to rid himself of Arthur once and for all, by falsely "sacrificing" him, but now he was getting proof of magic and fays before his very eyes. The elves all joined hands along the circle of mushrooms, even the child was held up in the air, grinning and trying to swing, thinking it a game. The two magicians began chanting, one at a time, sometimes together, an ancient rhyme.

_"Spin spin spin, circle of space." _

_"Turn turn turn, ring of time."_

_"__**Take us along the leys"**_

_"Round round round, hear the music chime"_

_"Away away away, unto another place"_

_"__**Take us along the leys"**_

The mushrooms seemed to waver, and Gilbert was freaking out. The magic swirled invisible around them, filling Arthur and Gilbert with unnameable elation. The villagers ran hither and thither, caught up in panic and terror, acting and sounding very like startled sheep.

"Arthur? What witchery is this? Hell, cuz!" Light rose up around the mushrooms, which seemed to dance and grow. The grass grew, so much that it was taller than Arthur and Gilbert's sitting forms. Then, the magician siblings began to chant once more.

_**"We call the name of our old mansion"**_

_**"Hidden beneath, our magic junction"**_

_"Dance along the ley lines, beyond fort and barrow"_

_"Carry us there by light and shadow"_

_**"Our home in the hills hidden, Lytegian."**_

The winds rose and the tops of the trees whipped about, the freshly laid foundations crumbled, and the two troublemakers were spirited away.

**A/N: **In Middle English, which this chapter attempts to replicate with varying results, there are two forms of the second person indicative. What does this mean? Basically, **you** and **thou** are two words for addressing someone in the same grammatical sense. Then why have two? Because **thou** is far more personal than **you**. It's like calling someone **anata** in Japanese. So to go from calling someone **you** to **thou** is an improvement of the relationship, while going from **thou** to **you** indicates a worsening of relations, such as during a fight. Most parents called their children **thou**, that Arthur's father doesn't is proof of his disdain for him.

**Cuz** is not an abbreviation of **because**, but of **cousin**. It indicates a closer-than-friends, less-than-brothers relationship. Basically a nickname for a close buddy.

The island of Lytegian is of my invention, and should not be sought for on a map. Hetalia is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya. This story is written under the Creative Commons Act, and garners no monetary profit for the author or any constituents.


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